Why a house full of pickles, you ask?
When we were officially a couple, soon to be
wed, our close friends started to combine our surnames - one Gillis, one Perkins, and you
get Gerkins. Over the year we resisted being
named after tiny pickled cucumbers, but
eventually, these things stick.
And now we are three.

Friday, January 22, 2010

Owen's becoming a little more confident and adventurous when it comes to walking. Check this out (or see here: http://bit.ly/5HJVAw)

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

So last Wednesday I was home with Owen, as is my wont, now I'm back at work. My dentist is in the same building I work in, so one of my colleagues watched him.

Thursday, I was involved in my first-ever Ministerial briefing at work - exciting, and good for the career, but nerve-wracking, not least because it started late and ran later. Luckily it was not a daycare day, so Owen just enjoyed more time with my Mum.

Thursday overnight he developed a fever... Seemed OK in the morning so we left him with Mum again, where he grew steadily more miserable through the day. When I got home from work he was pretty inconsolable, so off to the doctor's office for us. Ear infection.

Saturday... we managed to exchange our tickets to see the Metropolitan Opera's Carmen at the movies... and stayed home with a sick babe. Sunday, similar, but without the exchange.

Monday and Tuesday Owen was back to himself. He even napped at daycare!

Overnight he slept four hours, then six, a new world record. And he even put himself back to sleep when it turned out I hadn't quite managed it after his midnight feed.

Today he had a super-long morning nap, and then, shortly after I got him up and nursed him, planning to try some real lunch and head out to Mom's group, the house started to smell like smoke. I investigated the kitchen. Stove off, toaster cool. I looked down the basement stairs but it seemed ok. The smoke detector wasn't going off. Checked upstairs, nothing there either. The smell was getting stronger and the kitchen starting to get hazy. Strapped Owen into the highchair and checked out the basement for real.

Thoughts going through my head... we'd had some furnace trouble around Christmas - had something else gone wrong? And if something was on fire... we were supposed to have already been gone to Mom's group. Thank heavens we still had the chance to call if we needed help.

Hazy as hell down there. Up the stairs, grabbed the snowsuit, calling John, dressing baby. The neighbour appears at the fence. Pass her the baby and go searching for the cat while John calls 911. By the time I have the cat out the firefighters have arrived next door.

They set an oven mitt on fire while running the self-clean cycle on their oven. Everything is quickly under control. Three friendly and cute firefighters set up a giant fan to blow smoke out of my house, though the basement is a lost cause, having no windows. John arrives. The cat is deposited back upstairs. The firefighters leave. John goes back to work. We go to Mom's group.

We get home, and the ween naps another two hours. Take his temperature when he's up and he's warm again. Call telehealth. Suggest we take him in tomorrow. Try to give him dinner. Not interested. Take him upstairs to play for a while, then he nurses. Then he chokes on snot and projectile vomits all over me and him and the nursery.

I give up. Some day off.

In other news, current possible words:

Dada (definitely a word, but usable for any parent)Mama (a word, but not a frequent one. sometimes used for mama, sometimes just for things he wants, or food)Baa Baa (said in response to pictures of sheep)Tiss (possibly kiss?)Num, Num (yummy!)Hi (that is Haaaaaaaaaai, like he's from the deep south. Though he's not saying that much now he's got waving down.)